


Golden Age Brewery

by AngelicEclair



Category: Watchmen (2009)
Genre: Bathroom Sex, F/M, JDM, Jeffrey Dean Morgan Characters, Quickies, Walk Into A Bar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-16 01:20:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21499468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelicEclair/pseuds/AngelicEclair
Summary: The Reader and The Comedian walk into a bar.
Relationships: Eddie Blake/reader, Edward Morgan Blake/Reader, The Comedian/reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	Golden Age Brewery

Golden Age Brewery was New York's best-kept secret – an underground (literally) bar and lounge for Masks **only**.

(Y/N) took one last look at the cityscape before she disappeared below the surface. Moonbeams on the rain-soaked cars and buildings gave off an eerie blue light of the consistency of sea-shells, looking as if it could be scraped off with a knife.

She descended the endless concrete stairs into the blind gloom. She entered the catacomb-like tunnel system, hoping it was a straight shot to her destination like she was told.

(Y/N)'s kitten heels clicked against the pavement and reverberated as she neared the double doors to the bar: a tiny slit of brightness in the dark of the dank tunnel. The deep, bone-rattling purr of the taxis overhead faded was washed away by hoots and yelps as the live band took center stage.

As (Y/N) pushed her way in, her eyes narrowed against the offending light. It was as if every vivid summer petal had been sacrificed, had been crushed, and squeezed into the neon signs covering the brick walls so that it could shout louder than the moon and stars. They throbbed continuously like a headache.

The sharply-dressed performers were playing yellow cocktail music, and the opera of voices pitches a key higher. Laughter is spilled with prodigality, tipped out at a cheerful word. The groups change more swiftly and swell with new, masked arrivals, gliding through the sea-change of faces and voices and color under the constantly changing lights.

A significant number of single girls were dancing individualistically. (Y/N) secretly wished she could be as confident.

Rubbing her back and sighing, (Y/N) took her seat at the bar. 

Conversations swirled in a dirty cloud of smoke; the stagnant stench of cigarettes hides within the collaboration of mephitic odors. The bartender slid (Y/N) a drink, the droplets condensing on the sides of the glass, running down to form a wet circle on the bar top. The walls were decorated with artsy pinups of many lady-heroes, but most prominently, framed glamour shots of Silk Spectre in her heyday.

It was quite different from the bars (Y/N) was familiar with. There were two distinct types: bars where the laughter never ceased, billiard balls clacking over the sound of the jukebox. Then, there were bars where everyone stared into their drinks like they were crystals balls, whispering to them about their futures while _American Pie_ crackled over the radio. It was apparent that the men that slunk in at half-past nine were there to wash away their memories of the war and be left alone.

The Golden Age had a studious air about it. Even the smoke twisted in its artistic way, forming curls in the gloom, illuminated only by the strip lights. The tinkle of glass on glass was hidden under the velvet of a saxophone crooning. (Y/N) lips puckered at the cheek-twisting zing of citrus as she took a sip of her mixed drink.

Forgetting to scan for familiar faces, (Y/N) cast a look off to her side to identify the shadow, which she had only spared a single stool between. The hulk of his patriotically-colored spaulders struck a chord of gelid recognition. The blank eyes of the yellow smiley face pin that had become synonymous with the man stared back at her.

It was the one who operated under the infamous _nom de guerre_ : "The Comedian." He was a veteran "hero" who was unspeakably vicious, though everyone always did speak about it. He had become a full-blown hired gun on government payroll. A force of nature made flesh and bone.

It was _devastating_ how attractive he was up close. (Y/N) thought about how his face was the very last thing hundreds of poor souls had ever seen. A part of her would not have minded if that were the case for her. Perhaps that was the alcohol talking, though she had only had a few sips.

(Y/N) had heard he was quite bullish and nearly impossible for other Masks to work with. He functioned best as a lone wolf, but that meant he was left to his own devices and wholly unsupervised.

(Y/N) was close enough that she could just barely detect the heady musk of his cologne. He embodied an idealized representation of masculinity: so virile, so steadfast, so morally bankrupt. He looked like he belonged on the silver screen, dressed in a red velvet smoking jacket and puffing on a pipe. He looked like just the kind of man who would spank his wife for misbehaving.

(Y/N) felt chills rise on her skin at the cold and scaly quality of his displeased silence. He seemed to wear darkness like avirulent. He looked like he belonged to a select subversive group of devils whom Satan commissioned to make disgusting mischief in sacrosanct places.

(Y/N) shivered. It excited her tremendously against her better judgment.

Suddenly, moth holes had appeared in the plush of her faux-aloofness as she felt his snake-like eyes lock onto her and freeze. An iceberg bobbing in her paradise. Secretly, she enjoyed the lechery of his look. It was so vile, so wicked, so incredibly panty-drenching.

"You want a fuckin' autograph or something?" Eddie Blake knocked back another shot without even a hint of a grimace at the bitterness when he swallowed. A smile split his face as he noticed how humiliated (Y/N) was to be caught staring.

" _Funny_." She tried not to sound utterly breathless as she watched him retrieve a cigar.

"Well, I _am_ The Comedian."

He ducked his head and lit it, the bright flare cupped by his gloved hand, lips moving around the cigar. A heat with (Y/N) stirred, pounding in her throat, and elsewhere. The disgust at herself had a white-hot, serrated edge.

'Yeah, I _know_ who you are.' she wanted to gnash.

But, instead, she took a sip of her drink, trying to remember how to speak. She paused, and groped, and found what seemed, at first, a serviceable sound and pushed.

"S-sorry, I was just…spacing out."

Eddie gave an impudent chuckle, snorting out a cloud of cigar smoke. 

"Sure, doll."

Why was she so nervous? She was a hero for God's sake; she had bested an entire group of men his size before. Why was her back growing so hot? Why were spiders of anxiety skittering across her too-heavy limbs?

Maybe it was because Eddie Blake didn't have to try. Ladies with enough screws loose would get stuck in his trap like a fly to honey; then, all hope was lost. They were ruined for all other men. He wouldn't even have to say more than a sentence.

"So, what is it you go by?" He rasped.

"( _Your Hero Name_ ). I've only been doing this for a few months, actually."

"And you're already coming here?" He motioned melodramatically to the patrons, stumbling around with glasses of pricey booze glinting in the low light.

"It's my first time."

"Shit really doing you in _already_? God help us all." He shook his head.

" _No_ , I just wanted to unwind." (Y/N) smirked indignantly. She did not appreciate his teasing, but she was not going to let him get under her skin in that way as well.

"I know a _lot_ of spunky kids who chase after this lifestyle, then realize they're in way over their head." He growled, motioning for the bartender to bring him another shot of his usual.

"I'm not one of them. Not a kid either." (Y/N) threw The Comedian daggers over her glass as she took another hasty gulp.

He snorted.

"Okay, maybe you're not a kid, but you _are_ young. S'bout time we got some fuckin' eye candy in this dump."

(Y/N) cleared her throat, feeling her cheeks prickle with heat.

The was a pregnant silence between them. (Y/N) pretended not to hear and feigned interest in the couples dancing clumsily mere meet away before turning back to Eddie.

"Excuse me a minute." (Y/N) smiled politely as her heart frantically tried to climb out of her chest. She slid off the barstool and strolled past the shrouded man, trying not to look at him.

'Left, right, left, right.' She had to tell herself.

She found the bathroom, which was down a long, neon-lit corridor lined with glass cases filled with trophies, medals, and autographed hero merchandise.

(Y/N) pushed into the room and didn't bother to turn the light on, she just took deep, steadying breaths in the darkness.

_The Comedian had just flirted with her._

The elation inside her filled horrible, pathetic, yet insatiable fire as her venereal appetite grew. She was mesmerized with him: the legend of him as well as the larger-than-life man who sat slumped at the bar right beside her.

In between her legs was an annoying throbbing that she knew with a pained certainty she would have to take care of when she returned to her apartment later that night.

After recollecting her wit as much as possible, (Y/N) unlocked the door and stepped back into the hallway, her eyes on the ground as she tried and failed to talk herself up fifty stories high before emerging back into the fray.

When she raised her eyes, Blake stood at the end of the hallway, his silhouette colossal and daunting. She felt nothing but fireworks - drama and dysfunction. Her heart thudded along with the screaming jazz and her covetous-tainted dread.

_They were going to have to pass each other on the way back into the common area._

(Y/N)'s heart lurched the slightest bit as she mentally questioned whether he was getting ready to set out after a quick stop by the bathroom. Would their few shared words be the end of their meeting?

As The Comedian swaggered closer, (Y/N) noticed his eyes blazed with something unidentifiable and carnal. His mouth was set in a sort of playful sneer, accentuating the jagged pink scar across his cheek.

In a heartbeat, his warm lips crashed against hers, rough and frenzied. The intensity of it took her breath away. (Y/N)'s mind was screaming, giving off all sorts of warning alarms. She was positive she was going to crumple to the floor cold and dead at his feet.

His whole persona embodied masculine energy, and she was desperately trying not to lose herself in it.

"Come on, sweetheart." He gripped (Y/N) 's shoulders in a vice-like hold. His voice was rough and almost pleading as if his very life depended on getting inside her that instant.

"You got me all stirred up and you _know_ it. You gonna do anything about it?"

Seeming to notice her bristle at his words, he loosened his grip on her shoulders.

"Sorry if this isn't your style, but you have to know what you were doing to me – fluttering those lashes at me like a fuckin' doll."

Eddie grinned at the strangled noise (Y/N) made in response to his words. As he leered down at her, (Y/N) became acutely aware of just how massive he really was. He had to be at least a whole head taller and at least twice as wide.

"This coy shit is getting old. I ain't getting any younger here."

(Y/N) was not sure how they found herself in the bathroom again, but this time, Eddie was with her. With his kiss alone, he stripped her down to her last nakedness, that under-skin of mauve, pearlized satin, like a skinned rabbit; then dresses me again in an embrace so lucid and encompassing it might be made of water. She had never before been so passionately parched.

Her conscience was sure to thrash her later. In the morning, she was sure to have the urge to swan dive off a skyscraper.

This was by far the greatest joke ever told, but (Y/N) had entered a plane of being where nothing mattered, save the infusion of joy brewed within her body. 

The Comedian shoved (Y/N) into the counter, where her hands scrambled for purchase on the raised sink bowl.

With violent quickness, he wrenched (Y/N) 's jaw up from behind and forced her to look at herself in the mirror. "Aw, look at that, you're blushing." He cooed mockingly.

Eddie wasted no time. His pants were unbuckled, and the tip of his cock was rubbing against (Y/N) 's wet pussy in mere seconds.

"Looks like you're needin' real bad, huh?" hummed the semi-animated, subhuman trickster. "Well, then, without further ado..."

(Y/N) felt thick fingers pulling the lips of her slit apart before he pushed inside, groaning appreciatively at the resistance at (Y/N) sharp, shocked whine.

Eddie wrapped one gloved hand around the column of her throat and squeezed lightly.

"Hmm, what? I thought you said you were a _big girl_?"

(Y/N) shuddered at his growl. She could feel every plump vein on his cock throb as it pushed in and out of her tight heat. She could feel his pubic hair on her backside as their bodies connected viciously over and over.

Just as (Y/N) was _almost_ used to the ruthless dragging The Comedian's thick cock against her under-prepared walls, Eddie switched his pace from hard and fast, to painfully deep and slow. He would pull out at an agonizing pace, forcing her to register the emptiness inside her, then slam back in, almost making her scream with how hard he was hitting the little piece of heaven inside her.

His gloved hands groped her breasts as he used cunt, her legs are shaking violently from the brain-melting onslaught. (Y/N)'s trembling hand reached between her own legs and began rubbing herself sloppily in tandem, finding it difficult in her lust-drunk and deadened state.

Breathing so heavily through her nose was beginning to burn wickedly, so her mouth fell agape. She let out a tentative mewl, falling victim to his brutality. It was a sensory overload. She almost did not notice the sharp knock on the door, but Eddie did.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_." Eddie shoved her down against the cold, hard surface of the sink and repositioned his hands on her hips before he resumed hammering into her. "Hear that?" He asked, breathlessly. 

"Someone's right outside listening to you get fucked like the little slut you are."

An insane mix of fear and impending climax built tightly in her chest.

"What is that poor son of a bitch going to think about you? Little miss rising star hero getting fucked with The Comedian's fat, old dick." He snickered impishly.

(Y/N) could not help but squeal at his comment and increasing abuse on her battered hole. She hazarded a glance up at her reflection. Her breasts were bouncing beneath her skin-tight costume, her mascara as smudged and running from her tear-bright eyes, and above her, Eddie beamed sadistically.

"Ah, fuck." Eddie let out a guttural groan as he notices (Y/N) wide, fearful doe eyes in the mirror and emptied himself inside her without warning. Too engrossed in her own mission to find relief from the unbearable heat, (Y/N) continued rubbing furiously at her clit at just the right pressure. She could feel the hot seed leaking out of her and down her leg, a few drops spattering the linoleum floor.

The knowledge that she was filled to the brim with The Comedian's cum and hearing the angry patron banging on the door finally tosses her over the cliff.

White spots speckled her vision as she came violently, hearing Eddie's cruel praise and egging as she twitched and jolted as the last remnants of pure, unspoiled bliss left her bloodstream.

As the high-pitched ringing finally died down in (Y/N) 's ears, she could hear soft, sultry jazz playing from the stage and multiple people talking angrily on the other side of the door. (Y/N)'s heart was impaled by a thorn as she heard one say to get the manager.

" _Fuck_ _me_ , looks like your reputation's ruined already, sweetheart."


End file.
